why am i holding my breath?
by gustin puckerman
Summary: we're all going to die anyway. Blake Nellie. Glee Project 2, Hunger Games verse. one-shot.
1. I

**just wanted to try another kinda angst sort-of Blellie and have this random ideas, but has no idea where to put them at. So, then I run across a Hunger Games' fic, and let's just make it clear first- Hunger Games is awesome, 'nuff said. Second, yes, this will be in the Hunger Games' world. So if this isn't your usual-reading stuff, I understand. For those who survived and clicked my stuff and intend to continue with the story- you shall. Please, no flames and you know I own nothing. _Just extra notes; papi is nellie's grandpa, margot is nellie's sister, rasmus is nellie's little brother_.**

* * *

it's the way he's looking at her- those eyes, those desires, those aching feeling twitching to touch, to caress, to _feel_ that makes sense to nellie- because that's exactly how she'd look at him.

.

it's her sister. it's her sister, margot that's just so beautiful with dark, wavy hair and glistening skin and wildfire laugh that makes everyone _loveslovesloves_ her - and it's okay, because everyone _should_ love her- but it's kind of not okay when blake does.

(because nellie does. nellie loves blake, okay?)

.

he's a year older than she is, although they are only four months separated. and margot is three years older- but that's probably why he loves her; because she's wise and she stands _sotall_ like the trees she runs in everyday and moves _sofast_ like the wind and fun like the fireworks (although the fireworks only shines when the games begin) and nellie's just short and not fun and quiet and shy and everything-that-is-not-margot, and when you're not like margot, you're just a _nobody_.

(but it's also _sohard_ to hate on margot when all margot does is sing to her every night and tells her that "one day, somebody's going to come out and change this world- and when they do, we're going to be _sohappy_ together, nell. just you, me and mom and papi and rasmus. one day. you hear me?")

.

it's the sadness in his eyes when she comes out that day- and although for a moment, she's lost with the sight of him that's _sohandsome_ and good and gentle, it all crashes down when she realizes what day is it today; the day of the reaping, and all she could think of next is blood and burn and deaths. "are you ready?" he whispers- and it's so mournful, it reminds her of her papa's funeral.

they're waiting for margot in front of their house, and she could hear her mama's crying and rasmus' sobs and it hurts even more. but her voice doesn't crack- it never does- when she says, "i don't know if i'll ever be."

he smiles sadly, suddenly taking her hand in his warm ones. their fingers are rough because of the axes they practices with everyday (that's what district 7 does, if you wish to continue living), but it feels perfect, like they're meant to be somehow- although she knows by the beat of her heart his heart belongs to _margotmargotmargot_. he takes shuddering breaths and admits, "i'm scared."

she blinks- and it's hard, _sohard_ that she isn't so well with emotions or she might just hug him right now, right then (like margot would've done) and only sighs, "me too."

because, let's face it, _none of them stand a chance_.

.

it all happens sort of unexpectedly.

she only has four more years to go- to be end with all of these, to stop standing every reaping's day and pray with all of her life that somehow this is all a _bigbigbig_ horrible nightmare, when she knows it isn't. and she _hates_ the fact rasmus- her sweet, sweet seven years old brother- would have to go through this like margot, blake and she does and having to face the same fear they do. but she only has four more years left.

blake only has three more.

and margot only has just one more year.

but all hell break lose- and the world should have just collapsed because she honestly couldn't take it anymore- when that horrible screeching comes across the microphone, "margot hewitt!"

and as her sister stands on stage- nellie finds herself almost out of breath, like the life have knocked itself out of her. for once, _for once_ in her damn life, she really hopes margot _does_ stand a chance.

.

it's the first cut- the first blood seeping through the wound and drops to the ground that makes him run away.

she follows him to tell him margot managed to get away from the vicious boy from district one and that margot might have a chance to get back home anyway- but she only finds muttering and crying and sobbing the same sentence over and over again;

"i should have volunteer. i should have volunteer. i should have volunteer."

and yeah, she knows he would.

(he just didn't.)

.

margot dies in the hand of a blond girl from district 4, one of the careers, and it's sick, _sosick_ to see that evil smirk crossing the blond's lips as margot's blood smears her cheek. and it's done- there's no more hoping. no more margot. no more wildfire laughter, no more soft singing in the night and no more worthless promise that could fill her with hopes.

but definitely, no more her.

and it kills everybody.

just not like how it kills margot.

.

blake doesn't go insane- he doesn't. he just takes nellie's hand and shoves her against the wall and by the time you know it, she's moaning her name and digging her nails in his shoulders and he hisses and bites and _hungerhungerhunger_ for more, and they are _sopassionate_ and _sowrong_ and _sodirty_ and _sinful_ but by the time both of their lips are swollen, they don't even care.

because you couldn't possibly be more broken when you're at your worst.

.

and she's supposed to be happy or glad or relief or at least _some_thing, but she doesn't. she feels like she wants to kill herself. she feels like she wants to take margot's old axe and cut that blond's lips although she's already dead, killed by the boy from district one. she feels like she's being torn into pieces, and only being burned alive whenever it's the night blake's kissing her.

because it isn't right. it isn't right. he doesn't love her- never does. it only confirms it even more when she admits that one night to him, and he doesn't say anything back. just kisses her- _harderharderharder_. she still doesn't know why though-

why she still lets him tear her apart despite all of that.

.

it's two years after, just like the two years before.

no one expected it.

(although she does a little bit, but still.)

the escort calls her name like it's a celebration- most of everyone gasps out ("wasn't her sister reaped two years ago?") but she doesn't. he always tell her she's good like that- not breaking her emotion for everyone's show. but, truthfully, she doesn't even feel terrified. although she does feel alone- then again, she'd always thought she'd die alone (especially after margot's death), just not terribly- maybe a tree accident, or an axe accident, or _any accident_; not from being _murdered_.

she walks on the stage with a porker face and silently reminisce every steps she takes- because these were the exact steps margot took two years ago, before she's out to her death- and maybe, _justmaybe_, it's an honorable way to die after all; like margot. but he shouts out his name as tribute before the escort could even pull out the boy's name and she has a sick feeling in her stomach that she doesn't like this one bit.

"what's your name, boy?" the escort asks, holding the mic to him as he hustles to the stage, standing a couple feet next to her.

he breathes heavily, "blake. blake hathaway."

and then, as the escort turns his attention back to the crowd, she looks at him with sorrowfulness and hopelessness covering her hazel eyes. but he smiles- and somehow, although she _knows_ she's not supposed to feel like this, something in her stomach jumps- and she even feels excited that he's there with her, on stage, out for the games, out to what destroyed margot (out to what will destroy them).

she smiles a little back at him, when the horrid truth lies before their eyes-

they're _doomed_.

.

**_Fin_**.


	2. II

**okay, i seriously can't remember who requested a follow-up to this (meant-to-be) one-shot, and for that i apologize, but i also wish to thank you. i have loved that idea and _finally_ decided to act upon it. i haven't been writing lately, so there might be some scratches of mistakes lay amongst the words. for that, once again, i apologize. i try to make it natural- like it's actually meant to be continued - but it's not a promise. with that being said, enjoy my lovely readers**.

**the song preference: the civil wars- kingdom come**.

.

there's a song blake used to hear, and now sings. it was from his father's. blake had hated his father when he was young. the old man was loud, and bitter and used to dragged blake everywhere with his rough hands and forced him to hear all about his hateful comments towards the capitol when what he was supposed to do was _be quiet_ and not risk their lives and mom's. but blake never said anything to protest his father - he did once, and he got a slapped across his face that got swelled for over three days, and made mom cried when she first saw it.

blake didn't hear his dad sing often- but when he did, it was always the same tune, the same melody, the same _song_. he guessed that's why he remembered it. "_run, run away. buy yourself another day_," his dad sang when he's sharpening his pocket knife, and blake only listened. "_run, run and hide. somewhere no one else could find_."

maybe it's the message in the song that got blake to listen. the way his father's voice pleads in the song, as if sending him a code for him to break; _if you get the chance, son- don't be afraid to run_. but it's his father's harsh breaths and his hateful eyes that unconvinced blake a minute later. and now, recalling the day his father was taken away by the capitol (he guessed someone was finally brave enough to rat him over) and the train is taking him a mile away from his home after every hour passed- it's the only thing he could actually _understand_.

nellie's dry eyes are on him and he blinks back at her, not knowing whether to smile or caves in and finally cry. the train grumbles and something in his stomach flips in horror. she rests her head against the wall, "that song."

he looks up. she breathes out, "sing that song again."

he guesses he's not the only one who understands it.

and so he sings.

.

his mother was a quiet woman- very much different from his father, but he suspected it's because of the loss of her hand, but he never asked question. his mother was a beautiful woman, with light brown hair and clean skin. she stands with only one hand by her side; her left one was cut because of a tree accident, but he never found her imperfect in any way. except... her perspective on people.

for one, what does she see in his dad that got him to be married to her? blake knew his parents weren't married by force, so it must be love- or something else that continues to remain as a secret. his father was sloppy, his mother was none of that. his father was a mess, she was not. his father was somewhat evil in a minor way, she doesn't have a single speck of sin living in her rushing blood. but nonetheless, they managed to find a husband and wife in one another.

for another, his mother have always had a small admiration towards nellie. nellie was the daughter of good man sammy who died when he stumbled on his feet and fell into a steep ground and hit his head against a rock; he died on impact. he remembers good man sammy. he was a good man, with pale skin and squinty eyes, and was always jolly (_he remembers wishing good man sammy was his dad instead of what he got_) and he had three children with his wife. margot, nellie and rasmus.

margot was the prettiest among the children. her hair was long and wavy, stopped at the waist. her smile was large and her heart was even bigger. everyone liked margot, especially the boys. _especially him_. nellie- nellie is petite in size, and carries a scowl everywhere she goes. her fingers are cover in scars from the splinters of the woods and her heart weighs her with disappointment with every day she realizes the world she lives in is plain cruel. but when blake asks his mother about margot, all his mother said was-

"margot is a good girl." his mother smiles like she's remembering a good memory, "but sammy's second daughter - nellie- i think she's good too. better."

he never asks why, he never knows the reason behind her words.

"my mother likes you," he tells when they arrive the capitol that bright (horrifying) day. she turns and her brows furrow together slightly - it was a small change of expression, and he must be leaning _soclose_ that he notices it - and there's a crowd of people watching over them and he tries to ignore the trembling nerves shaking underneath his epidermis. "that's a good thing, y'know. when we get back, we could get married. she won't mind."

"us?" she asks, the surprised in her voice is less than he thought.

"yes," he speaks. "us. and we could forget this day and have kids and grow old and die together. it's going to be a good life, i tell you."

"no," she says, there's familiar hate in her eyes when she spits her respond. "we're going to die."

he doesn't say anything because it's true. and then there's a pang of venom appears somewhere in his mind that says: _if margot was here, she might go along with your plan to pretend. if only for a while_. he doesn't realizes nellie was away for a minute only to come back with a permanent pen in her hand. she grabs his hand and he blinks back shockingly. slowly, shakily, in her care, she draws two horizontal lines on his ring finger- and repeats the same action with hers. with the same flat tone, she drawls, "we probably have to skip having children and growing old part, and die a little bit early. but, at least we'll be together and-"

"-happily married," he ends for her.

she lets go of his hand, with a single nod of agreement. "i'm sure your mom won't mind."

he thinks he's getting his mother's logic now.

.

nellie kisses and he feels like he's on the edge- _dangerous_. he thinks he likes it when she gives him this crooked grin under the moon-lit night in between their kisses, and the way she moves in rhythm with him while they touch each other everywhere, and the way her raven hair tangled up along his long fingers and the way she sighs when he kisses just a bit harder.

they go on forever and ever until the night is no longer night.

he thinks it's loneliness. he thinks it's desperation. he thinks it might even be love.

.

he's good with punches while she's more into knives. he thinks she might win this one. she might go home- broken, battered and almost killed. but alive in the end. but, he's also selfish in a way. he doesn't want to die. he doesn't want her to win. he wants to go home, where trees hide him from this awful truths and his mother's eyes awaits him at his house. but, he doesn't want to see nellie dies.

he couldn't picture her- lying there, on the ground, lifeless. not that same scowl on her face and that same tiredness smearing her breaths. a blade struck her heart and a pool of blood paints over her pale skin. he couldn't imagine it. he doesn't. or else, he's going to be sick.

"i think you're going to win," he says, despite his selfishness.

"no," she answers. "i don't kill people."

he thinks of his mother, and his muscles tense. "i think i might have to."

she looks at him, emotionless. "then win this thing."

there's a determination lies in her dark lens, and a strong sense when she bumps her fingers with his, and it's all for him- he guesses he's winning this thing.

.

the countdown begins, the cornucopia lies for them to take. he trembles, but swallows his fear. he won't show it- he won't die too early. he won't give those people a good show. he won't fail her.

he watches nellie- the same scowl on her face, and he thinks of home.

he won't fail her.

he won't.

.

"i do love you," he told her the night before.

she watched, her head tilted and her eyes stained with disbelief. "don't lie to me, idiot."

her stubbornness agitated him. "i do."

she's quiet then, looking outside the glass window that displayed the view of the capitol. he followed her gaze and stayed silent. the air was stiff, but he thought it's better that way. "tomorrow," she drawls, her voice sounded mocking. "the hunger games begin."

he flicked his eyes at her.

she continued, "and we're going to be as good as dead."

he laughed- _they are_.


End file.
